


maybe this is where it ends

by karnsteins



Series: the bad decisions that we made [3]
Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Mafia!Dallas Winston, Mentions Past Cherry/Dallas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karnsteins/pseuds/karnsteins
Summary: he gets back to the apartment, which still holds evidence of a marriage that has fallen apart. a moment with dallas, the apartment, and ponyboy.
Relationships: Ponyboy Curtis/Dallas Winston
Series: the bad decisions that we made [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113230
Kudos: 12





	maybe this is where it ends

by the time he opens the apartment door, there's enough blood staining his shirt to be worried. slowly, he makes his way in, careful with the knob and shutting the door. he knows that the apartment is empty, unable to get a fresh scent for anyone. it makes it harder to shuffle his way past the foyer and to the bathroom, knowing that he'll have to do this on his own. 

he makes his way down the darkened hall, where the photos that used to be there (him and cherry at the wedding, the picture of them with her parents, endless photos of cherry from high school) are all taken down now. past the little desk that had been put there and heads to the master bedroom. even that is slowly losing evidence of his marriage: the bed is mostly a mix of jeans and shirts with paint stains, the comforter no longer matching the walls or carpet, picked for actual warmth more than anything else. carefully, he maneuvers around the clothes thrown on the floor, nudging the old hoodie out from the bathroom doorway and finally, his feet hit the cool tile. 

"fuck," he mutters as he's able to finally look at his reflection. it isn't that great: blood is still smeared on his face, there's sweat mixing with it, and some dirt too. his hair is plastered on his face, and he tries not to think about it any further as he opens the cabinet, and grasps the medical kit. 

it takes effort to drag himself to the couch, head pounding, his side flaring in pain as he throws himself on it. the damn thing deserves to have bloodstains on it; he didn't pick it out, cherry had. the patterns on it were still annoyingly complicated blue and white for a piece of furniture that should have been simple. her leaving it here just meant that he could take advantage. he leans back into a better position, strips off his shirt and considers, again, calling ponyboy. 

he's well within his rights to. ponyboy was staying with him during this internship of his, he knew what was going on, had known when he had accepted to stay. and furthermore, they were _together_ now in that nebulous way they hadn't yet defined. if he wanted to call, ask ponyboy to come help, he would. 

the rest of him, however, didn't want to interrupt. ponyboy had gotten out of tulsa, come to new york. he was still getting his education and he wasn't going to interfere now. 

calling two-bit is an option too, but time matters more — and lord knew if two was even in the tri-state area about now. he gets to work, heating up the needle, getting the needed thread, and the whisky to keep the edge off. it's arduous, slow work to clean up, sew the slit in his side. the blood at least had eased up, and after awhile, his fingers adjust, the pain distant and bearable. he knows how to do this, has done it so many times before. the whisky makes things easier as it goes keeps the pain distant as he works.

when it's done his hands are steadier despite the blood. the kit is thrown on the side table after he's able to wash his hands. the whisky burns itself down his throat one more time, and he shuts his eyes, succumbs to slumber on the couch. 

he dreams a familiar dream: cherry lain before him, her hair blending in with her own blood, her eyes wide open. the sensation of failure, of deep upset courses through him again, and he finds himself reaching out for her body, trying to convince himself it isn't real. that cherry is alive, that her heels will click on the floor at any moment, to come home. that her scent will wash over him, he'll kiss her and things were going to be okay. none of that happens here: he merely smells the blood, looks at her lifeless, unseeing body. it's a frequent nightmare he resents now more than ever. 

even though he'd stopped loving her, his brain couldn't forget that he once had. 

the dream shifts, dissolves into darkness. scent fills his senses: omega, but not over sweet, not overpowering, mixed with blood that belonged to him, smell of unfiltered cigarettes that have just been put out, the sting of antiseptic, old books and clay.

his eyes crack open slowly, slightly cruddy from the sleep, and finds, curled up beside him, is ponyboy. his glasses are halfway down his nose, his auburn hair falling to his cheek. his arms are tucked around his side, curled up close, face inches away. affection, warmth blooms in his chest, and he reaches over, tugging at his hair like he'd done years ago in the church. "hey. hey kid, wake up. shouldn't you be in the bed?" 

"mmnph," ponyboy's face scrunches up, eyes opening up, focusing on him. "shouldn't you have called, dal?" he leans into dallas' hand, frowning. "i'd have come."

dallas gives a small, sharp smile. "yeah, i know. i just…"

how could he even articulate it. pony knowing what he was in for with dallas, with his involvement with the mafia, and it being different from him and cherry. how she'd shoved her way in, made herself apart of it and then broken things. how dallas didn't want the same thing with pony, didn't want to drag him down. that his acceptance felt wholly different from cherry and sometimes it made things hard. 

pony seems to know some, at least, of what he's thinking about. he shakes his head. "dally, i'm okay with it. better i stitch you up, than yourself." he gestures and dallas follows his hand to his side. his own sloppy stitches had been replaced by pony's neater ones, patched up better. "sides… i don't mind. i know you." he shifts closer, being the one to kiss dallas this time, easy and soft. dallas kisses back, hand pulling ponyboy closer by the waist, nails digging into ponyboy's bare side. keeps him close, indulging himself in ponyboy: his skin, his scent, his warmth. he sighs, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, ponyboy biting him back just the same, mouth moving from dallas' to his neck, nuzzling against his neck. 

dallas pulls him closer on the couch, legs tangling up together. he notes with pleasure that ponyboy is wearing sweatpants — dallas' sweatpants. he rubs at ponyboy's back, voice rough, "i'll call next time." it's a promise.

"good," ponyboy breathes out against his ear, nipping at dallas' earlobe, "then stop moving so much, okay? lemme up," he licks at dallas' shoulder and it doesn't miss dallas that he licks at the spot near where a mating mark would be. it hasn't been lost on him in all this time, that he and cherry had never mated, only married. he thinks about it, about mating — not her but sinking his teeth into ponyboy's shoulder, hearing him moan as he takes it from him — as ponyboy stretches, squints at him, "what do you think you can eat?" 

"soup," dallas answers honestly, shifting on the couch a little more comfortably. "beer," he grins. ponyboy snorts, and makes his way to the kitchen. dallas watches him go, the thought staying in his mind, what it would be like to claim, to mate him. how he had wanted to sink his teeth so badly into cherry, make her his, and couldn't, compromised for a ring. and how much he wants to do the same to pony, and how he thinks ponyboy wouldn't mind it. how he might say yes, smile at him instead.

he shifts, shuts his eyes, and relaxes into the couch as ponyboy begins to cook, finally comfortable. in his mouth, his teeth ache for the press of ponyboy's skin, and for now, he leaves it alone.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please comments, kudos, holler at me over on tumblr, i'm @madeleinepryor.


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